The Stars and the Darkness
by Cleonie 'Jayne Mansfield' Quin
Summary: "He asked why she was so insolent, when he offered nothing but devotion – it infuriated her, and the words that had been bottled up inside of her too were released, except they less resembled a red wine, looking more like a swarm of bees, which were shook up and shook up and released into the ungodly hell that she inhabited. She broke her silence."


**Welcome to Hell, friends!  
**

**Dedicated to Rogue Requiem for her kindness.**

He was the God of the Underworld, entrusted with a task of misery and pain to be shared by no one, lonely till the day of his death. But death of the body does not come to Gods, for they only fade when their memories are forgotten by the people who once worshipped them. And so he ruled Death.

She was an Earth-child, a daughter of Zeus who closer resembled the land she tended to. Youthful to the point of obnoxiousness, her precocity both endeared and annoyed. Her body was tight and yet had a mesmerising fluidity to its movements, innocent in itself, devious to_ him_.

Her mother was wary of men, a result of how her daughter was conceived, and punished the men who were taking an interest in her daughter for Demeter's own promiscuous mistakes, harshly keeping the little Goddess locked away from their words and attractions. The girl's own uncle, Hades, had even come up for air once and asked about Persephone. Incensed, the girls' mother sent him back to where he had came from, and on her return paid her old lover a visit, explaining to an exasperated Zeus, who, wanting only for the miserable harvest-Goddess to leave him be, instructed Hades to send his budding affections far, far away.

Little did the King of the Gods know that Hades had indeed sent his feelings away. All the way up the ground, in fact, where there they took root and bloomed. Those blooms reached the grassy verges that surrounded Persephone, kneeling unaware whilst tending to the daffodils.

Every being on Earth (and whisper it, the heavens) knows the story coming next. The little Goddess was standing in her evening spot in the autumnal breeze, counting the stars in the sky (for when the moon comes out and the flowers cannot be seen, the stars twinkle reassuringly). A section of the land only metres from her heels disappeared, and she inhaled quickly, turning in time to hear a thunderous cacophony of wild beasts galloping out into the silent air. There was a man—no, a _God_ commanding the brutal entry into the previously virginal surroundings, and his body was saturated with passion and raw masculinity as he strode from his golden chariot to the statuesque girl, picking her up in one sweeping motion designed to impress and intimidate.

There were no flowers, and no stars to reassure her in the Underworld, as Hades explained to his newest acquisition. She did not know what to ask, even though her mind was full of questions. He pestered her, like a child. For though she was barely settling into her teenage years, her maturity was greatest, and she wearily requested freedom, he granted her only solitude. Her tears came later and weren't hysterical, nor were they the results of a deep sadness. Rather, they came as an incapability of understanding a new world and an apparent way of life she had never wanted.

Weeks of no value or interest passed, with her glimpsing her kidnapper occasionally and dining with him often, where he would ill-advisedly profess his love for his little Goddess, whom he likened to a sapling—pretty, tender, and young—with a curved mouth that welcomed him with every rare smile, and eyes that were swimming with rejection. For though he was a God, he was a reluctant and bitter one, and she was a young, blossoming tree with no experiences or adult feelings, perfect to bloom under his care; but little trees wilt away when offered only night.

She had been silently accusing throughout, but when she ignored him spilling his feelings like a nasty wine spilt from a cheap glass across a pure, white tablecloth, his annoyed tut more than irked her. He asked why she was so insolent, when he offered nothing but devotion – it infuriated her, and the words that had been bottled up inside of her too were released, except they less resembled a red wine, looking more like a swarm of bees, which were shook up and shook up and released into the ungodly hell that she inhabited. She broke her silence.

"Your love is an abyss, swallowing me whole, along with the goodness and purity of the land. The flowers, trees, elk, and leaves that once inhabited the Earth are being consumed whole by its darkness. _That _is what I think of your love. It is no more love than it is a complete destruction of everything good, and I can't bring myself to feel anything other than resentment for you because of your wild, misplaced _feelings._.." She was not yet done though and tore towards him with her claw-like nails extended, ready to inflict as much savage pain as possible. A nail on her left hand scraped down his face, leaving a small, yet bloody nick just below the eye socket. He commanded her away, with the help of some of the inhabitants doomed to death-long servitude to their master. When the wound had healed slightly, he sat by a fire, touching his face lightly, saddened by the failure of his relationship.

It was a long time before he chose to face his snarky abductee again, doing so only when the darkness seeming crushing and he had trouble eating alone in the dining room. Paying a visit to her vast chambers, he stood in the grand doorway- he spoke hurriedly and rued the fact that the little Goddess had reduced the God of the Underworld to a nervous wreck.

"I took you for selfish reasons. I know this, I hate it. I was resigned to just sense you a mile above me, longing for your acknowledgement. I loathe the means by which I took you, but I would displease you a thousand times more to know that you are safe and protected here, instead of—"

She interrupted him harshly, not caring for his weak words borne of weaker passion. "And I am resigned to looking upon the stars, but I do not pluck them from the sky!"

"You pick the flowers from their homes for your decoration."

"They are flowers. I am a Goddess."

Observing the many dead, his thoughts blossomed with ideas and excitement, reluctance and admission. He came to terms with the fact that he had done all the damage he could-and knew she would wilt if kept in the Underworld for any longer. Already cracks were starting to show in the self-righteous character she had cultivated, and he could not bear the sight of it.

He wore her scar with pride on his cheek, carrying her with him through the darkness. He did not need to keep her by his side for any longer, for he knew he would always carry her within him. And so, he let his little Goddess go. He had loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the darkness.


End file.
